My muse struck me when I was listening to the new song released off of Tim McGraw's new album. To me this song just screamed Jibbs. Please R&R
"Diamond Rings and Old Barstools, One's for Queens and One's for Fools"
He sat at the bar sipping his whiskey quietly, reflecting on the turn of events that landed him there.
He thought back to the past several months with her, undercover in Europe. It should've been a terrifying and unsettling experience but with her it easily became his biggest adventure.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat there in his musings, drunk on a cold barstool. He didn't usually drink to get drunk, and he could hold his whiskey better than most. But now that she was gone that's how he spent almost every night.
The chatter of people in the bar made him feel not so alone, and took the sting out of the air where her voice should be.
The more he drank the less he felt her absence and that made it easier to blame her.
He had spent a month reading her letter every night and letting it fuel his anger.
He stumbled through all the usual questions; the how's, the why's, and the when?
And that's when he came to the conclusion that it wasn't her fault at all.
So here he sat, drinking away her memory and trying desperately to grasp the anger that had been replaced with the knowledge that he was wrong.
He had been a damn fool. Hell, if she had treated him that way he would've left too.
He had never once been able to tell her that he loved her, or eluded in any way to marriage. And when her nightmares struck he laid there silently, leaving her alone to deal with them herself.
He had called her Shannon after a few of his own, and she never mentioned it or asked.
She was the best thing that was ever going to happen to him again, and now she was gone.
Left him with a letter, and though it was long she hadn't really said much. Her letter spoke of her promotion, her plan, and her sincere belief that this was what was best for both of them.
He had memorized ever piece of that letter and every word hurt him more.
The truth was, he wasn't really mad at her, but he did hate himself.
He hated that he couldn't give her all that she wanted. That he had taken a woman so beautifully vibrant with life and made her waste precious time on him.
He had nothing to offer her but an old house, a boat and some bourbon.
Nothing that would suit a woman like that. But damn how he wished it did, he knew he shouldn't get to keep her but all he could think was how he wanted her back.
It was selfish of him but he needed her and he ached with the desire to hold her again.
The alcohol buzz was comforting to a troubled soul like him, but it was only temporary. The only brand of comfort that could sustain him ever again was hers.
He rose from where he sat and stumbled his way over to a pay phone that hung on the wall. He picked it up and dialed her number, the same number he had been calling every night for a month.
"Shepard", she answered after the third ring.
He leaned his forehead against the concrete wall in front of him, smiled a little weakly at the sound of her voice.
And then he hung up the phone, without having said a word.
He stood there against the wall looking around at the bar scene before him.
God, he had never felt so alone.
"Jenny", he whispered weakly as he sank to the floor, a lone tear streaking down his face.
"I guess some things just don't mix like you hoped, like me and you, and diamond rings and old barstools"-Diamond Rings and Old Barstools
-Tim McGraw
Please R&R!